


Endure

by Eottoghe



Series: Chained [3]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Cat/Human Hybrids, Child Abuse, Freedom, Heavy Angst, Hybrids, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Read at Your Own Risk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 22:56:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13580673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eottoghe/pseuds/Eottoghe
Summary: Even the meek become invincible.





	Endure

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally 8k+ of backstory. It's definitely not 100% necessary to read this. In fact, I didn't add it as a chapter in case you really didn't want to read it or couldn't handle it. But for those of you who were curious, I did have a back story in mind and this touches over some of my inspiration for "Chained" and the place he came from and just WHY he's so reluctant on going back.
> 
> Also, if you just so happen to stumble upon this and don't wanna read the full fic, this is basically a stand alone. If you wanna know anything that happens after... well I'd suggest reading Chained ;)
> 
> Thank you for the support!

Tarnished cages sat in neat rows of the underground holding chamber leaving wide isles in between. Some thirty children were held in each one, a punishment for improper conduct. One shook as a heavily armored guard kicked at the bars. He cursed at the scuff mark it made on his expensive leather boot. The rattling of the cage startled everyone in ear shot awake, the noise bouncing of the walls in a harsh echo.

 

The hybrid inside flinched awake at the vibration.

 

"It's time to get up, boy." He was told. Hunched over with his knees to his chest and his back against the chilled metal, twelve years old was far too big for the box. He squinted his eyes to make out the shadow in the dark. "It's adoption day." The guard continued to speak. Jeonghan could barely hear the words over his heart thrumming in his ears. He was nervous. So nervous he could vomit. A pitiful dry heave of broth and stale bread would probably be all he could manage, but the feeling was still there.

There were metal cots stacked three beds high made to accommodate them all so it wasn’t a typical thing for the hybrids to be kept in cages beneath the main facility. They had technically been outlawed as unethical. But, there were always loopholes to every law. Small pockets that allowed for certain things to slip through the cracks. After all, how can you strip someone of rights they never had? The crack they found for this particular law was that cages could only be utilized for certain forms of punishment.

They called it _isolation,_ which in short was a wide, dark basement where they held the hybrids for a set amount of time to “reflect” on their actions. Communication was prohibited. Even knowing that you weren’t alone, didn’t make one feel any less lonely. It was systematic conditioning to ward off disobedience and uncooperativeness. And for the most part, worked. No one liked _isolation_ so did everything they could to avoid it. It was enough to drive anyone to insanity. Jeonghan, unfortunately had been bold enough to waste an entire year’s supply of toothpaste by squeezing it into another kid’s shoes. That on top of the two other run-ins he’d had with the same bully landed him three days in _isolation_. But luckily for him, it was cut short as the guard announced he had a potential adoption.

The kids around him whined from all directions for several reasons. Some were envious of the boy for not having to serve his full “time-out” in _isolation_. Some were envious that he was getting the invitation to be adopted in the first place. Others stayed silent.  There was no guarantee the boy would end up in a placement better than where he was now.

They heard stories.

 

Jeonghan had been hand picked out of hundreds of hybrids.

Their facility hosted kids all the way up to the age of 18 and Jeonghan, out of the whole lot, had been picked. There were profiles on each child. Who they were, how they looked, how they acted. It was nothing short of a catalogue and although belittling, it was efficient. The system was easy to sift through and filter out the best matches based off the type of hybrid one was looking for.

Jeonghan couldn't imagine himself being special in any kind of way. He was average with his short blond hair, lanky limbs, quiet demeanor, but maybe someone out there saw something in him that he didn't see within himself. Maybe someone thought he was special enough to look after and take care of. Maybe he could be accepted and loved.

He knew it was foolish of him, but some niggling of hope was coddled close to his heart that it’d been the family that abandoned him. He held on to the possibility that his parents were forced to give him away, but had vowed to seek him out as soon as they could. It was foolish, but he’d hoped.

 

The process was tedious, but ensured he was presentable to the client. One of the guards hosed and scrubbed him down, styled his hair, fluffed his tail and dressed him in clothes that were more expensive than he believed he was worth. He almost couldn’t recognize himself when they allowed him to look in the mirror.

He had to continuously wipe his clammy hands on the slacks he was wearing, afraid that any form of imperfection would lead to rejection. He was just so nervous, but along with it came an excitement he’d never experienced before. He could only hope that he'd be given to a full, happy family that could cater to him and make him feel treasured.

But that was too much of an idealistic dream.

Jeonghan didn't want to admit that he was a little disappointed to see a tall, very expressionless man, instead of the welcoming family he'd always dreamed of. The black suit he wore was too stiff. His eyebrows were too frowned. And he smelled so strongly of smoke. It wasn't his ideal kind of adoption, but it had to be better than nothing right? He thought it'd be worst, just looking at his features as he stood in the waiting room, paper work already signed, and arms crossed neatly over his chest. But, when he caught his eye, he extended a large hand to Jeonghan and offered a set smile. One that wasn't over the top joyful, but small and encouraging. It eased the nerves some.

Hybrids weren’t given last names if they were government owned, stripping them of any familial heritage there may have been, so he took his owner’s last name, Yoon. He thought it was fitting enough. Yoon Jeonghan.

 

Mr. Yoon took Jeonghan for ice cream. With his glossy black shoes and pressed blue button down, he tapped his foot in anticipation. Jeonghan had never had ice cream. It was a luxury that he was never granted. But Mr. Yoon wanted to treat him for their first day together. He realized then that sweets weren't his favorite, maybe he just had odd taste for a twelve-year-old, but to have the option of eating it was more than he could have imagined. The green tea flavored treat dribbled down his chin a couple of times. The man sitting in front of him would reach out his finger to catch it before advising Jeonghan to slow down before he got a stomach ache.

It was a peculiar feeling. How gentle and calm he’d act despite his cold appearance. Jeonghan didn’t question it, just reached for a napkin to wipe up the remainder, hiding an embarrassed smile.

He learned that Mr. Yoon was only 29 and the creased lines in his forehead made him seem much older. He was a business man, Jeonghan had come to discover over licking his sticky fingers, but he never disclosed what kind of business it was. He’d had a steady income, so he stressed how Jeonghan should never have to worry about finances. He was very tight lipped about most things regarding himself. He didn't mention the things he liked, the things he'd been through, but he was very intrigued by Jeonghan. He wanted to know it all and bombarded him with more questions than he could churn out answers.

Jeonghan was naturally more reserved, but he figured he should try to be more open as this person was willing to take him in. With that in mind, Jeonghan was as honest as he could manage. From growing up in the adoption center, the things he’d experienced and what he enjoyed most, he told it all. The best way for this to work would be to start with a clean slate and hope that he’d impressed his owner enough not to be sent back.

 

Mr. Yoon's house was large. Much larger than he'd expected after being told that it would just be them occupying it. It looked more western, like the houses in the magazine Minki had shown him once before. The yard had freshly cut blades of green grass and a fence around the perimeter. There were other homes on the same road, but they were further down on either side. He couldn’t really see them from standing in the yard. It wasn’t entirely remote, but it seemed far enough away that it wouldn’t draw garnered attention.

Jeonghan was given a room of his own as well which was entirely different than being on the top bunk of a tiered bed. He’d never had his own personal space to decorate and alter. He couldn’t hide the excitement from it.

 

“You like it?” The man asked, startling Jeonghan out his roaming gaze.

“Yes. I like it a lot.” Jeonghan said in awe. The decorations were a soft powder blue paired with a beautiful pearly white. From the bedsheets to the flowy curtains to the actual walls, the room symbolized purity and youth. It was a completely different vibe from the stone-cold walls of the adoption facility. No gloomy grays.

“I had the whole room renovated just for you.”

 

It was all going well. Mr. Yoon was straightforward and prided that as one of his best attributes. He asked that Jeonghan would be obedient and listen to him well. On days where he’d be too tired to cook after he got home from work, he expected Jeonghan to pick up the slack. Before Jeonghan could shamefully admit that he wasn’t sure how to prepare meals, he was told that he’d be taught. He made sure to include that Jeonghan was expected to clean up after himself and tidy up where he saw fit, but all the expectations seemed simple enough.

And it was… for the first few months. Simple.

Jeonghan’s birthday soon passed and after private tutor sessions monitored by Mr. Yoon, he started school. It was a private school of students who’d grown up alongside each other as their close-knit families tended to stick together. With cliques already formed, it was difficult for him to find a place to fit in. There weren’t many hybrids either, but the ones there were had found their niche as well.

He’d almost made a friend due to a project he’d needed to complete, but bringing the poor kid home proved a bigger mistake than it was worth. Jeonghan learned the hard way that Mr. Yoon didn’t like others in his home. It was something he should have guessed as they never had visitors, but it didn’t strike him until it was too late. It should have been simple, Jeonghan thought. He’d just come home and introduce him to Mr. Yoon and apologize for the surprise visit. It was for school anyway so it should have been harmless.

Mr. Yoon couldn’t hide his surprise when he got home and saw both boys huddled over the dining room table. He’d watched them the entire time and Jeonghan could tell it made the other boy uneasy, so they rushed to finish, and he sent him on his way.

It was the first time Jeonghan had been scolded by him. Without supervision, there was no telling what they could have been doing in the house all by themselves, he stressed. Even after Jeonghan explained that they’d just been working on school stuff, Mr. Yoon made it clear that he was not to have anyone in the house unless he got permission beforehand. Needless to say, Jeonghan didn’t _want_ anyone over if Mr. Yoon was going to act how he did. It was embarrassing enough learning that he was the only kid without a television or phone or even a radio. He didn’t need more reason to stand out. The kid was probably already texting his friends about the weird experience.

 

And from there it grew more complicated.

 

Mr. Yoon was always a complex man. He was quick to hide his aggression for the first few months Jeonghan had known him. Little things Jeonghan did that didn’t sit well with him were excused and instead of being reprimanded for each one, he was encouraged to change his habits to fit the new lifestyle. He took baby steps learning what Mr. Yoon did and did not like so he could better accommodate himself to staying with him. Then he’d switch.

Gradually, Mr. Yoon became more obsessive—engrossed in every little thing Jeonghan did. He wanted to know where he was at all times. What he was doing. If he wasn’t home, then who was he with and why. He had this tendency to want to control Jeonghan’s every move and when he didn’t do something exactly like he’d wanted him to, then he’d snap at the hybrid.

He refrained from shouting, didn’t lay a hand on him, but would question Jeonghan relentlessly with accusations. He made his disdain known.

 

_Who was walking with you?_

_Why were you so late getting home?_

_Is there something you’re hiding from me?_

 

 

But there was nothing. He began to distance himself further from the other kids, and they didn’t make much effort to bring him back out of his shell. He’d made sure to take the same path home every day, keeping up a constant pace each time, not waiting for any others. He’d leave his door open when he did homework at his desk because he didn’t want to be suspected of hiding. He wasn’t sure of what constituted as bad behavior anymore because every little thing seemed to turn into a trigger. He didn’t understand it. The months turned into a year of this compulsive behavior.

And then the dynamic shifted again.

Mr. Yoon got more affectionate. Jeonghan would get ready to leave for school, he’d be drawn into a hug and given a soft kiss upon his forehead. At dinner, he’d give a rundown of his day before abruptly stopping when he’d feel a thumb brush across his lip as he was _“such a messy eater”._ But the oddest had to be the night visits. They started off months in between. Where Mr. Yoon would come in and lay down beside Jeonghan and not say anything. Jeonghan wouldn’t have even known he was there if the bed didn’t dip slightly when he laid down.

Then he’d leave. He never stayed a full night. Never addressed it in the day. But they grew more frequent.

A couple months a year.

A couple weeks a month.

A couple days a week.

Daily.

 

It drove him mad to never get an explanation, but with everything setting off his owner, he never brought it up. He was still being fed and clothed and looked after. Mr. Yoon loved him even if he had a peculiar way of showing it, and that’s what Jeonghan wanted to believe. Other kids would talk bad about their parents and how it wasn’t fair if they grounded them or took away their internet privileges, but Jeonghan was just happy to finally have someone. Not every parent was perfect and his was doing his best. He’d even get the urge to call him dad sometimes, but didn’t want to put him in an uncomfortable position in case he wasn’t ready to hear it. He didn’t want to give Mr. Yoon reason to push him away or send him back. He’d vowed to never go back to the facility for as long as he lived. Mr. Yoon had already began smoking more, but would brush it off as “relieving stress”. Jeonghan thought he was the reason for it and that though made him worry more.

 

“Happy birthday, kitten.” He’d picked up this odd nickname for him somewhere along the way. Jeonghan never questioned it. Mr. Yoon pet his ears so gingerly, so soft. He was turning sixteen and had been growing out his hair since he’d arrived. Mr. Yoon suggested it would be something new to try and if he didn’t like it, they could get it cut. But, whenever he mentioned going in for a trim, it was shut down because _my kitten just looks so cute with his hair all long._

“Blow out the candles and make a wish.” He was told.

But Jeonghan couldn’t think of a wish. He watched the wax leisurely roll down the candle, the wick’s flames dancing around like a carefree fire spirit. He followed its moves with his tired eyes and wracked his brain for a wish, but he couldn’t think of anything. What did he wish? What did he want?

Mr. Yoon blew them out for him shortly after. He’d ruin the cake if he just sat there with the candles burning. And as if the flames were what had him entranced, he came back to, apologizing that he must have gotten distracted. After that, they sat around talking. Jeonghan made up a story about some kids wishing him a happy birthday when in reality, no one even knew. Then he went to bed. He didn’t feel any different. He didn’t feel any older. Nothing seemed to change.

And the nightly routine remained.

It’d been difficult falling asleep that night in particular. He couldn’t think of why it was so hard to make a wish—why he couldn’t think of one simple thing, but when he finally got his thoughts to calm themselves, he began drifting off.

 

And that’s when Mr. Yoon came in. He’d felt the bed dip behind him like it had so many times before. But this time, arms came to wrap around him. He froze in the embrace. He’d never actually touched him when he’d come in here for this strange ritual of his. This was different. He felt hot breath on the back of his neck. It made him uncomfortable. He’d wanted to squirm away. Maybe if he pretended to be asleep, he’d leave.

 

He didn’t.

 

His hands were like snakes, slithering slowly over his clothed stomach then beneath the fabric. Jeonghan couldn’t fake sleep anymore as he’d reached his limit. He grabbed at his wrists, holding them from moving any further. Whatever was happening, he wanted it to stop.

“Mr. Yoon? What—what are you doing?” His voice was shaky, fear exposed from the moment he opened his mouth. It was futile. He kept using those rancid hands to travel beneath his pajamas and caress his legs, wrapping them around his tail and cupping his neck. The hybrid told him to stop, but his words meant nothing. He’d been pushed forward on his face, crushed by the man above him. His added weight restricted his lungs from breathing properly and he began to panic with the man now stripping off his clothes.

_But he loves me_ , Jeonghan thought. _He adopted me so we could be a family. So that I could be the child he’d always wanted and he could be the parent I never had._ But, Jeonghan was wrong. _Very_ wrong about the dynamic of their relationship. Because to Mr. Yoon, he was a puppet of his will. Someone created to do his every bidding.

And every time Jeonghan wanted to believe he was anything more, Mr. Yoon would be there to remind him of his place. Jeonghan didn’t understand why. Why he’d been tricked so flawlessly. He couldn’t grasp the fact that he’d been used and deceived to gain his trust, just to find out that his intentions were not what they seemed. No amount of crying. No amount of screaming. No amount of kicking and cursing and praying to whatever gods there were would change anything. His sixteenth birthday marked a turning point in his life.

 

“When outside, you are to refer to me as Mr. Yoon. When inside the confines of our home, you must refer to me as _Master.”_

Jeonghan could finally think of one wish.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Eventually Mr. Yoon invited Jeonghan to his room for permanent stay. It was easier to keep watch of him that way and to have him readily available whenever he so pleased. Most nights, Jeonghan would lay awake, unable to get a truly good sleep. Only succumbing when his body was simply too exhausted to stay awake any longer.

There was a list of unspoken rules. A book of dos and don’ts that Jeonghan was made aware of but only after he’d already done them. He became more cautious, never speaking out or talking back, afraid it would trigger some form of punishment. He’d become so meticulous, he’d check the clock right before he left school, memorizing the route home and how long it took to get there to ensure he arrived at the same time every day. If his Master was home and he came a minute too late, there would be consequences. When he’d worked late, Jeonghan made sure to have dinner cooked the way his Master wanted, and the table set by the time he stepped foot inside the house. By working into a routine, he made sure to minimize the opportunity for punishment every chance he got.

He endured it for a long time. The abuse grew from a simmering ember to an enveloping flame. What once was a light reprimand for a simple accident became a full-fledged beating for something just as minor.

Some marks were visible, ones he could try and hide with his cardigan and button-down uniform shirt, but it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway. The kids he’d almost gotten close to were nowhere to be found. If anyone noticed the bruises, they didn’t mention it so neither did Jeonghan. He’d also picked up this nasty habit of self-punishment when his nerves grew anxious.

He’d almost confided in someone after they gave a silent offering for some medicine to ease the pain. Jeonghan might’ve considered the person a friend, but even that stopped once his Master found the pills in his school bag.

There was no point in fighting. He just endured, and years passed just like that.

 

Highschool was a waste, Jeonghan thought. Why send someone to school if you never give them the opportunity to put their knowledge to use. He was glad to leave the house (even if school felt just as bad sometimes) but felt that it’d all been for naught if he was denied getting to use all he’d learned. He could feel his potential seeping out day by day. His classmates would talk about becoming doctors, and lawyers, and politicians at graduation. Jeonghan would at least settle for a waiter at a restaurant or a cashier at the gas station. Anything was better than staying within the same claustrophobic house day in and day out.

Cooking. Cleaning. Slaving.

What else was he good for?

Graduation was bitter. Not only was it the ending to a chapter in his book, but the ending to the last thin thread of his sanity. The years to come would prove some of the most trivial years of his life.

 

 

 

 

Jeonghan was 20 when he’d touched a computer again.

When high school was over, there was no feasible way to communicate with the outside. He was not allowed a phone. They had no television. The one computer they had was in Mr. Yoon’s study room and he was forbidden to ever enter it. A year had made him go stir crazy as life gradually drained from him. Every day he’d gaze at the front door, imagining how it’d feel to be back outside again. How it must feel to stand in the open with the sunlight kissing his skin, with the comforting breeze holding him, with the earthy scents engulfing him. There was so much to the world that Jeonghan hadn’t seen and he wanted to explore every inch of it and what it had to offer. Just behind that door. If he could just leave…

 

It was like his life was full of closed doors. Another was his Master’s study room. It sat at the end of the upstairs hallway, stark and different from the other white painted doors. Dark brown and prettily carved, he found himself staring at that as well, imagining the contents of the room. And then there was the computer…. He’d seen a glimpse of it in there before. Jeonghan had never used it, but he knew what it was capable of. The computer was _outside_ to him or the closest he could get and he so longed for it. He wanted to use it at least once, but never found the strength to take a step in the forbidden room.

 

One night after dinner, Mr. Yoon had closed himself up in the study room and Jeonghan couldn’t stand it any longer. He began eavesdropping on whatever conversation was being had inside. He’d been obedient all these years, never once coming close. It wasn’t his place to, he was told. The longer he remained in the house and the stricter his Master became, the more he wanted to unravel all his mysteries. What did he have to hide? He was curious of what work it was that Mr. Yoon did when he’d retreat back to this room. He didn’t think it would be all that big of a deal if he sat outside just to listen to one conversation, just to get a glimpse of something—anything from the outside. Now he was so close, he could almost touch it.

 

But he came to find out, it wasn’t quite worth getting caught.

 

“If you want to listen in on my conversations, all you had to do was ask.” Mr. Yoon announced, swinging the door open, leaving a stunned Jeonghan to topple onto the floor in front of him. Jeonghan tried to defend himself with some excuse as to why he was crouched down outside, ear pressed to the door, but clearly none made logical sense. He quickly stood up with a bow and attempted to make a beeline for the exit. “Stay.” Was all it took to make him halt, mentally cursing himself for his own curiosity.

Mr. Yoon made his way to his giant desk, its emblazoned deep brown glaze looking entirely too intimidating. He sat down in his chair slowly, eyeing the boy still awkwardly standing by the door. He pressed his earpiece to redial the previous number. “Sorry. It looks like we got disconnected.”

The study was exactly how he’d expected it to look. Wooden furniture was accented by yellow lighting casting eerie shadows along the walls. A computer sat on the desk along with a couple of books, a binder and writing utensils. An expensive rug with Aztecan patterns was spread across the floor. Jeonghan committed the layout to memory.

Jeonghan could hear some muted dialogue on the other end of the line. He wanted to slink away, but the gaze boring holes into him advised him not to move. His attention was fully on Jeonghan and although his words were directed toward the person on the phone, his eyes stayed planted on the hybrid, daring him to move.

Catching the hybrid off guard, Mr. Yoon unzipped his trousers all while continuing the conversation. Jeonghan couldn’t register what was being discussed as his mind was too distracted by what was silently being asked of him. He wasn’t nearly as curious now, knowing that listening in came with a price.

 

“The presentation was quite unclear. Go into more detail for topic two.” Mr. Yoon palmed himself lightly. He beckoned Jeonghan over with his free hand. His voice didn’t so much as waver, not giving the person on the other end of the line an opportunity to piece together what was actually happening behind the scenes. When Jeonghan took too long to cross the floor, Yoon’s gaze sharpened in a profound glare. Jeonghan took the last few steps until he was standing directly in front of him shyly. He couldn’t believe that he was asking to be pleasured while he was talking to an associate. What if they heard him? His cheeks burned at the prospect of being caught doing something so dirty.

 

“I always tell you, you only get far if you take use of all of your resources.” Yoon said into the line while pushing Jeonghan down by his shoulders. “Now explain the procedure in fine detail and I’ll help you simplify the points into something that will be easy enough to grasp for the next presentation.” He pulled his waistband down before grasping Jeonghan by the back of his neck and pushing him forward. “Yes. That’s it.” Who the words were directed to, Jeonghan wasn’t sure, but after the repulsive appendage was in his mouth, he shut his brain off.

 

Times like these, Jeonghan liked to dissociate his body from his mind. He’d see the sky stretch on for miles like blue oceans. He could swim in them, floating through the specks of clouds. In his head, he could live however he wanted to. When reality came back, the sky fell back into that stale room.

He was positive the other person caught a clue as to what was going on as shortly after his Master found his release, he rushed him off the phone. He probably heard him gag despite how quiet he tried to be. It was funny how he cared. He didn’t have much pride left, but hadn’t completely disregarded his self-worth.

 

“Alright then. I’ll see you on Tuesday.” Mr. Yoon hung up and glanced down at Jeonghan when he was done. “Go clean yourself up.” Mr. Yoon used one of his hands to zip himself back up and the other to log back into his computer that had gone into sleep mode. He was ready to brush off Jeonghan like he had just been a disruption to whatever business he was getting done. It made him feel all the more insignificant.

But Yoon Jeonghan was not stupid. He’d make the most of every opportunity presented to him.

Before he stood to exit, he glanced over at the computer and made sure to memorize the password being typed, repeating it in his head over and over and over again before hastily making his exit.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jeonghan was feeling courageous this day. His Master had gone to work around an hour ago and wouldn’t be home for a while. Standing outside of the study, he felt his knees tremble. He’d never entered the room on his own—had only seen it a handful of times, but he made sure to lock the computer password in his head for the next chance he got. It took him nearly 40 minutes to gain enough strength to walk through the threshold, but once he did, he’d instantly wanted to go back. It was so odd being in a place he knew he shouldn’t have been. If he got caught, there was no telling what would happen. The fear almost immobilized him.

But he’d made it this far. No use in turning back now.

Jeonghan walked up to the desk, afraid to step too heavy as if it could leave indication that he was there. Same books. Same binder. Same pens. Same computer. It wouldn’t kill him to take a peek, right?

He made sure to mentally snapshot everything, locking the scenery in a mind vault. He couldn’t leave any tracks.

Just sitting in his chair made him feel powerful, if only for a bit. And with the most strength he could muster, he clicked the power button, effectively turning on the computer. It’d been a week since the last incident there, yet he remembered the password as fresh as the day he saw it.

 

_548836._

 

Jeonghan had never felt more exhilarated in all his life. Sure, he had to speed through the rest of his daily routine to make sure everything was done in time, but it was well worth it. He’d remembered some “incognito” browser from high school and quickly went to the search engine.

He had no idea where to start.

What did he like? What were his interests? Jeonghan could barely even remember simple facts about himself and it was terrifying. He’d gotten this opportunity and had almost wasted it. Then a thought came to his mind. What had he been craving and longing for all his life?

Exploration.

Freedom.

Oddly enough, he found himself scrolling through endless Google map photos. Cities in Korea. Cities outside of Korea. It was all so beautiful. The world was a wonderous place and he just wanted to go and revel in every inch of it.

 

After his owner came home that day, he’d almost expected to be caught then and there, but it was never brought up. He’d managed to cheat fate once. There was no way he could do it again, he’d thought. He mentally psyched himself out for two months, afraid of going back, less he up his chances of getting caught. So, he didn’t go back until one day, he’d been very antsy. He’d been itching to go “explore” again. He remembered the password to login. It was something he’d probably never forget. It was too important.

And after he’d danced with the devil again and kept getting straight sixes on all his rolled die, Jeonghan decided to make it a regular thing. Whenever his Master was not around, and he could assure he wouldn’t be back for a while, he’d sneak into the room and log into the computer. He should have expected things to fall apart shortly after he’d gotten comfortable.

Things would never stay simple.

 

 

 

He’d gotten carried away. There was no telling how long he went searching through articles and videos of any and everything he could grasp. And when it came time for dinner to be cooked, he’d had to rush. Chop, pour, stir. Chop, pour stir. But he could only speed up the process by so much.

_How could I be so stupid?_

His whole schedule had been thrown off and it was rather disorienting.

 

“What have you been doing all day that dinner isn’t even ready?” The voice alarmed him so much that he nearly dropped the pot of scalding water he was draining. He quickly poured off the excess and went back to chopping, not once daring to glance back. _Just act natural. Just act natural._ Chop. Pour. Stir. His hands shook undiscernibly.

 

“I accidentally fell asleep. I’m sorry.” He kept his head down, lying coolly. _Chop. Pour. Stir._

“Hmm… That’s it?” He tested. Jeonghan only nodded. He heard his Master ascend the stairs and his stomach dropped with each step. _Did I double check after I left?,_ Jeonghan kept thinking. _I pushed the chair back in. I shut it completely down like he always does. Was there something I missed?_ His thoughts loud as they were, drowned out the sound of his Master’s approach.

The smell of nicotine grew stronger as he drew close. He stood behind him, but Jeonghan didn’t realize until his hands were halted from chopping. His owners’ fingers curled around Jeonghan’s, the knife still firmly gripped in one.

“Why do you seem so nervous?” He accused. The hand controlling his, drew the knife closer to his midsection. _Does he know?_

“I—I just know how you like dinner done b-before you get home.” He tried to keep his breathing even but the blade pushing against his shirt made his breath hitch.

“Hmm.” He hummed. “I do. But something must have made you really tired, huh?” The sharp edge was pressing into Jeonghan’s skin, making him wince. “What had my kitten so distracted?” His heart was thumping so intensely. He could feel the knife coming to scrap along his stomach, but it was numb. He was numb. Somewhere in his mind, he saw blue skies.

 

Knives are sharp. They pierce. They cut. They sting. They hurt.

But nothing hurt more than the emotional wounds left behind. Another landmark to add to his map of imperfections. He was marred constantly.

And he couldn’t bear it much longer.

Jeonghan had had enough. He needed to leave. He couldn’t be there anymore. He could no longer _endure_.

It was the first time he decided within his mind to leave. It was irrational and very spontaneous, but he could not stay. He was sick of it. Sick of it all. So, he left without any kind of plan.

He’d walked out in the middle of the night with nothing but the clothes on his back and the shoes on his feet. His Master was asleep and Jeonghan had laid awake thinking of all the strife he’d been through. Restless. He couldn’t stand to stare at the ceiling any longer. Couldn’t stand to hear that slow rumble of a snore. Couldn’t stand to willingly allow this man to dictate his life.

 

He found himself running and running and running. The only path he’d ever walked found him going past the same houses, the same bushes, the same school, everything a blur as he passed it all, not knowing enough of the world to have a destination, let alone know how to get there. He had lived for twenty years and this was the farthest he’d ever gone.

He only stopped running when his legs finally gave out. Sprawled out on the sidewalk, there was no way in knowing where he was. The street signs all seemed jumbled in his head and in the dark, it became harder to read.

The cold was biting, but revitalizing. He could breathe, and the air was such a sickly sweet, he’d inhaled it all like a fish soaking in water. He could live there forever even if “there” was nowhere. He couldn’t count the hours he laid on the ground, staring into an abyss. Planes looked like stars and the moon gazed down on him until it began to fade into a purple twilight.

He really would have stayed.

 

When he was found hours later, it took a lot of effort to bring him back. The air worked wonders for his soul as he tried standing up for himself for the first time in a long time.

 

“Tell me why you’re doing this! What have I done?” He screamed at the man dragging him back in the house. He was already in enough trouble for leaving in the first place. Nothing he could do now would make it worse. The courage coursed through his body like iron pumping in his veins. "I haven't done anything wrong! Tell me why!" His face flushed in red as his emotions took over.

It was only a moment after that a slap him sent him falling into the wall behind him. Everything flashed white before drowning in red. Adrenaline worked in funny ways. Even the meek become invincible.

“I do everything you tell me to do!” He continued screaming like a child who’d reached his breaking point by constant provoking from the playground’s head bully. “I want to know why.” He wanted answers and was hell-bent on getting them. “I have done _nothing_ wrong.” He was so livid, he went as far as shoving him away with all his strength.

It only stoked the bear more.

Before he could even register, a tight grip was placed around his throat and he had to gasp for air around it. He was stunned into silence; the pulsing ache to his skull being numbed to the burn of his lungs.

 

"The simple fact that you _exist_ is wrong.” He growled. “You disgust me. _Everything_ about you is _wrong_.”

Although it hurt, Jeonghan was not done. His vision was nearing hazy, but it was still red.

“Then let. me. go.” he choked out.

"You’ll be dead before I do."

 

It was the last thing he heard before his body finally shut down on him.

 

 

With all he endured, this punishment had to be the worst.

His safe place was harder to imagine with each lash ripping the fantasy straight from his grasp. Every strike weighed him down, dragging him further from the sky and tumbling straight back down to earth. All that remained was the cracked cement walls of the basement and the cold floor under his bare feet. Agony manifested itself like a tycoon. It harvested off his tears. Pain like no other, Jeonghan begged for it to end. Begged for forgiveness. Promised to never leave again. But once his Master was angry, there was no weaseling out of a punishment.

 

The stripes on his back had not yet healed, nor would they ever, Jeonghan thought. He could remember being whipped until he’d slip in and out of consciousness. It hurt more than cigarette buds. More than the knife’s blade. More than the burning of his lungs. He could still hear the crack of it every time he closed his eyes. It reminded him of the lighting, the thunder. Could taste the bile on his tongue as his stomach bubbled over.

His last strand of sanity had snapped. He’d come to accept his fate. He was nothing but a puppet and deserved to be treated such.

He'd wanted to be strong, daring, bold. To feel free and alive for once, when in reality, he was broken. There was nothing left of him but the unhealed wounds that mimicked him with their assurance of scars. They would forever remain on his body as a constant reminder of his cowardice in being unable to defend himself. The words of hate that his Master spewed became true in his eyes. From then on, he surrendered.

 

He was chained.

 

It was like isolation all over again. A cage in the basement in the dark. Until Mr. Yoon had his specially made collar ready, Jeonghan had to be restrained in case he’d attempt to escape again. He’d betrayed his trust and disobeyed his orders, he was told. If trust were a mutual thing…

Jeonghan's collar was thick and black with his name etched into the leather in pretty script. A metal plated box was riveted to the collar, holding a rechargeable battery pack at the base of his neck.

A lock box was added, tucked away in the corner of the basement. It held a radio transmitter that could detect when Jeonghan was close to the barriers and would release a beep as a warning to not go any further. Each second outside of the barrier would release another wave of shocks until it indicated he was back within range. The box also held a remote control with various shock settings for when the barrier was not enough imprisonment. It was the final indicator that his life was not his own and that whoever held on to that control, was the one to hold control over him.

 

“You can always try to cut through the collar, but there are thin wires running throughout. If triggered, it’ll shock you at max until the batteries go dead. There’s no telling how long that will take, but I can ensure you won’t want to chance it.” He made slow circles around the hybrid, loving how he cowered at the idea. “The leather has curved strips of stainless steel sewn into it so even if you tried to cut through it quickly and just bear the shock, you’d have to find a way to cut through those as well. You’ll probably be out by then, but go ahead and try if you’d like.” He was all too smug about it. “It’s impossible to remove.”

There was nothing he could do.

He was too afraid to even imagine what going outside again would be like. He came to the realization that his Master was the only one he had in the world and he had to learn to be grateful because it was as good as it was going to get. He buried his resentment and clung to the only person he’d grown to know.

 

 

At the age of twenty-two, it took another life-changing realization to change his course again. Over a year later, and he’d had an epiphany of sorts.

It came to him in a dream. One of him and no one else, watching the cotton candy clouds, humming to some off tune. Wind chimes singing in the distance. It called to him. It told him that the life he was living, was not all the world had to offer. He could roam the wide expanse of it if he so pleased. The only thing stopping him, was his own fears.

From that point on, he was convinced he had to escape. Didn’t know how, but he knew that he would.  He needed a plan. He was foolish last time. Just taking off with nothing thought through. This time would be different.

 

Jeonghan could still remember the password for the computer and hoped it’d be the same.

And by a miracle, it was.

 

He found Seoul through videos and articles and maps. It wasn’t close and that was exactly what he was banking on. He watched videos from other hybrids about how they escaped and came to the big city. How it was _different_. The people were _different_. Runaways were more common than he thought.

He sketched a plan in his mind despite being terrified that it’d fall apart. He stashed money when he found it in his Master’s pockets during laundry or being sly enough to sneak out bits when he wasn’t looking from his wallet. The amount he got would determine how far he could go. Running got him nowhere but a bus line and a few trains might. He planned the time of escape to be in day time an hour or so after his Master left. This ensured that he’d be fully immersed in his job, but gave ample time to escape before he realized Jeonghan was no longer there. He planned the day for a Monday as he’d always complained those were his most stressful days because of all the work piled up. That way, he was more likely to come home late by having to handle whatever problems arose at work. He made sure to pack his school bag with clothes early, but made sure to obscure it in his old room’s closet. And instead of eating the snacks he was given, he stashed those away as well.

The only thing left was the pesky collar harnessed to his throat. He could feel the metal plates with how stiff the collar was. He’d felt the shocks after many demonstrations from his Master. He knew there was no way he could just barrel through it as just one hit left him drained, so he had to find a different way.

He virtually knew nothing about the system, only that he couldn’t access the remote or radio transmitter. What he did know, was that it was battery operated. And even though it could take a long time, they had to wear out. Jeonghan figured if it beeped each time he got too close, it’d probably drain the battery each time it was actively in use. Every 2 months, his master would change them, even though he said they could last a few. So if he were to drain the battery enough before the next exchange, he could possibly dull the shock enough to go free. And then he’d have time to figure out how to get the collar off, but he’d cross that bridge when he got there. Everything had to be done in secret. If he was suspected of intentionally wearing down the batteries, he’d have to come up with a different plan.

Jeonghan first took a step over the boundary to gauge just how strong the shock was right after he’d gotten the new batteries. It almost made him regret his plan and abandon it to find a different one, but when he couldn’t think of any better, he proceeded. He walked the perimeter, listening for the beep. He did this for hours (not only to waste the battery, but to spend more time outside of the house). Then he’d come back inside, wash all scents of outdoors off and go back to his chores like nothing happened. After each week, he’d test the barrier again to see if the shock dulled. And after a month, the shock was still there but it was… tolerable. He wasn’t all too sure on the exact mechanisms of it, but it seemed to have an impact, what he was doing, so he wore them down as much as he could before his escape date.

He found he had enough money to get to Seoul and a little spare for emergency. He’d memorized the map to get to the nearest station. His bag was already packed and ready to go. The batteries had been teetering on the edge, Jeonghan using about 3 months’ supply up in half the time. His Master had been gone for 53 minutes. This was his window. It was now or never. He had to leave or else the pattern would start all over again and his escape would be prolonged. He knew he wanted happiness—knew he deserved it. So why was it so hard to take the step past the gate? Why had it been so damn difficult?

 

He was petrified.

 

But nothing was scarier than staying. He had nothing to lose, so he risked it all.

 

It was the last time he’d ever see that house again because he was _never_ going back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yikes, this was so hard to write at times. Comments, questions, concerns, greatly appreciated.
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr @eottoghe !


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